


Ill-Fated

by ashitanoyuki



Series: Accidental Kidnapping AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (I never thought I'd write them with that dynamic but here I am writing it for reasons), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bank Robbery, Codenames, Fear of Rape/Noncon, Hostage Situations, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith and Shiro are adopted brothers, Kidnapping, Other, mentions of rape/noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-23 20:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashitanoyuki/pseuds/ashitanoyuki
Summary: It was supposed to be a normal day. It was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill lazy summer day, with only a boring trip to the bank marring its perfection.Unfortunately for Keith, a group of bank robbers think he would make quite the effective hostage.





	Ill-Fated

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a prologue to an AU that I may or may not get around to writing... It works well enough as a standalone fic, though, and I've already written it, so why not post, I thought? Even if I ever get around to writing the rest of this AU, this can still be read by itself.
> 
> The majority of tagged characters in this fic are referred to only by codenames. Hopefully, it should still be pretty clear who they are meant to be.
> 
> (I've written Lotor as a true antagonist for once, whaaaaaaaat is happening. Posting this as a one-shot without the backstory and circumstances from the whole AU, I'm realizing how terrible his actions are in this installment. Whoops.)

It had started out a normal Tuesday morning. Shiro's shift didn't start until late, Keith’s summer job didn't start for another week, and he'd attended his last final three days ago, rounding out his freshman year at Garrison University. Keith had groaned when Shiro mentioned that, as such, it was the perfect day to take a long overdue trip to the bank.

“Suck it up, Keith,” Shiro had teased, his mouth twisted in a wicked grin, his eyes sparkling, and good lord Keith had wanted to punch his brother so badly. “We'll be gone an hour, tops. You can lock yourself in your room with your punching bag after that.”

Now, as a man's strong arm held Keith flush to his chest, as a gun kissed Keith's temple, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to be home within that allotted hour.

“I think I've made myself clear,” the robber – the others had called him Bossman – said to the man sent in to negotiate. “I have a hostage. We will leave, with the money, and we will not be followed. If I so much as _think _anyone is tailing us, the boy dies. Am I clear?”

Keith shook, frozen in place. His eyes darted around the bank lobby. He caught Shiro's gaze, and holy _shit, _Shiro hadn't made that face since they learned of the death of their parents. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and on his knees with his hands raised, Shiro looked so _small._

“I see,” the negotiator said stiffly. “And there is nothing we can do to negotiate the boy's relea-"

The gun went off, and Keith flinched, whimpering in the anticipation of pain, of death. Something flicked his leg, and when he opened his eyes, he realized that Bossman had angled the gun down to hit the floor, a dented scour cutting through patterned wood. The barrel of the gun returned to Keith's temple, and he shuddered, his eyes seeking out Shiro again. Shiro had gone pale, the blood drained from his face; he looked like he was about to faint. Ha. Haha. Shiro always liked to brag that nothing Keith did could faze him. Apparently “almost getting shot" made the cut.

Oh god, he was going to die, wasn't he?

“Next time, the bullet goes through this boy's brain,” Bossman said coldly.

The operator slowly reached for his radio. “Ten-twelve,” he said grimly. “Perpetrators have a hostage and are threatening lethal force. Hostage's life is in immediate danger if perpetrators are pursued or threatened. Allow them to exit unimpeded.”

The bottom of Keith's stomach dropped out as the gun was removed from his temple and replaced at the back of his neck. A large hand curled possessively around his shoulder, and he cringed, the touch burning like fire. “Walk,” Bossman ordered quietly, nudging Keith's thigh with his knee.

Keith tore his gaze from Shiro and allowed himself to be guided from the building. He almost expected the small group to be rushed by police as they exited the bank, but the uniformed officers were deathly still, quiet as Keith was herded out of sight down an alley, a side road, another alley. They came upon an RV, parked clumsily along the curb, and the biggest of the group – Bossman had called her “Bruiser" pulled open the door and stuck her head in. “Mask on, Honor Guard! We’ve got a hostage!”

There was a curse, and after several seconds, Bossman nudged Keith again with his knee. Keith stumbled as he climbed into the RV, limbs dead and head like static.

A woman sat at the wheel of the RV, a bandana covering her face from the bridge of her nose on down. “A hostage?” she demanded. “Really, Bossman?”

“So long as we aren't followed, he'll exit this adventure entirely unharmed,” Bossman said lightly. “I'll secure him in the bedroom while you get us out of here, Honor Guard.”

“Yeah, secure him in the bedroom,” Bruiser echoed mockingly. “Don't think I didn't notice he's exactly your type.”

Keith's limbs nearly gave out at that, his mind blanking in panic. One – one of his _captors _was _attracted _to him. Oh god, oh god, he was going to be raped before he died, he'd never so much as _kissed _anyone before_,_ and nowhe was going to be raped and murdered and discarded on the side of the road when they were done with him and he wasn't useful anymore –

“Don't make me out to be such a brute, Bruiser,” Bossman said, sounding almost annoyed. “The poor thing's already terrified. Let's not antagonize him further. Chameleon, Blind Assassin, would you please fetch some restraints?”

“Just because you don't touch doesn't mean you can't look!” Bruiser shouted gleefully as the vehicle rumbled to life and Bossman steered Keith towards the back of the RV. “He's gonna be all tied up with nowhere to go, no harm in having some fun!”

“I'm no rapist, Bruiser!” Bossman called out as he shoved Keith into a corner and pressed hard on his shoulders to make him sit. “I do apologize, lovely, " he added as he holstered his gun and yanked Keith's hands behind his back. “I assure you, you will remain unmolested during your time with us.”

The woman Bossman had called Chameleon entered the room and handed something something to him. Even craning his neck around, Keith couldn’t see what had changed hands, and his heart pounded, thumping erratically in his chest.

Briefly, Bossman switched to a one-handed grip to take what he was offered, and then a zip tie was pulled tight around Keith's wrists. Another tie was wrapped around his elbows and yanked tight, and _fuck, _that was gonna hurt if they left him like this. “I'd like to leave your feet untied,” Bossman mused, “so you can walk unimpeded when my girls take you to the bathroom. Can I do that, lovely? Can I trust you with your legs unhindered?”

Keeping his legs untied would just make it easier to take off his pants, but Keith was hazy with fear and didn't want his mobility restricted more than it already was. He whimpered an assent and drew his legs tight to his chest, burying his face in his knees.

“Good.” Bossman drew back, and then he was walking away and the two that had come in after him were walking away, and Chameleon was closing the door and thank _fuck, _the illusion of privacy and safety was just that, an illusion, but he still finally felt safe enough to cry. His heart was pounding, his stomach ached, he _wanted Shiro _and _shit, _how was Shiro going to deal with his, his fucking _kidnapping?_

He could hear Bossman through the door. “He is not to be unbound,” Bossman said, his aristocratic voice cutting through the air. “We will escort him to the restroom every few hours. We'll feed him three times per day – Honor Guard, how many meal replacement shakes do we have left?”

A muffled “Sixteen" sounded through the door.

“Then we'll get rid of him after five days,” Bossman said, and Keith went cold with fear. “Do not interact with him outside feedings and bathroom breaks. No need to cause the poor boy any additional stress. I can't imagine he'll take kindly to interacting with his captors.”

There was silence for a long moment. “No, Blind Assassin, I don't think we can provide him any comfort,” Bossman said. “We are his captors, after all. All we can do is attempt to minimize the damage.”

Keith pressed his face into his jeans. To think, he'd complained at Shiro about a run-of-the-mill bank run. He'd do anything to go back to their set schedule, to make a routine trip to the bank and go home afterwards. He'd do anything to take back his complaints about the errand – would that be his brother's last memory of him?

* * *

The first bathroom break was terrifying.

Keith's legs felt like jello, his arms were beginning to protest their position, and suddenly Bruiser was there, taking away the façade of safety by opening the door. Keith cried out as she grabbed his upper arm and steered him into the bathroom; his vision went static with fear as she reached for the front of his jeans and undid the button and zipper. Mercifully, she spun him around and pushed him to sit on the small RV toilet as she yanked his pants around his ankles.

“You can go sitting down,” she said, her eyes above her bandana cold and unyielding. “I'm not touching your dick.”

It took a little while to relax enough to go, but then she was redressing him and manhandling him back into the bedroom. Shameful tears dripped down Keith's cheeks, but fuck it, he was so damn _scared. _Not even his worst foster family had been this terrifying, the one where the “mom" beat him for the slightest infraction and the “dad" got too touchy when drunk. At least then, he knew where he stood. With these kidnappers, he had no clue.

The first feeding was nearly as frightening. Honor Guard marched into the room, a bottle of Ensure in hand; she twisted off the cap, held it to his lips, and ordered him to drink. Keith obeyed, terrified, but even though the meal replacement sat like lead in his gut, it could have been worse. He was frightened out of his mind, but Honor Guard had encouraged small, slow sips, taking care that he didn’t choke on the chalky, nominally vanilla-flavored shake.

Over the next several days, they switched off feeding him and taking him to the restroom. Grime grew on his skin, because they never allowed him a chance to bathe, but Bossman didn't touch him, and Blind Assassin even brushed his hair as the tangles grew, despite Bossman’s order to leave him alone outside of necessary interactions.

And then, for the first time in days, the RV stopped for longer than it would take to switch drivers.

Keith waited, tense, for at least twenty minutes. When the door finally swung open, it was to Bossman, towering terrifyingly above him.

Keith barely got a moment to catch his breath. Bossman crossed the room with purpose, a knife in hand, and Keith _screamed. _Bossman paid him no mind, using the knife to strip Keith's shirt from his body. He seized Keith's jaw and squeezed, then stuffed the ruined shirt into Keith's mouth, gagging him. Bossman dragged Keith out into the RV proper, and Keith had only a few seconds to get his bearings before he was shoved into an oversized wheeled suitcase, the sound of zippers loud in his ears.

What. The fuck.

Keith was forced to endure as the suitcase was dragged and jolted and rolled. Finally, light blinked down on him as the suitcase was unzipped, still furiously (and futilely) attempting to spit the gag from his mouth.

“Remove his shoes and his pants, and tie him to the bed,” Bossman said, and Keith thrashed where he was held, because _no! _“This will impede his ability to work with the authorities – he’ll be arrested for public indecency if he tries to run, if he can even get far on bare feet. And thank you, lovely,” he said, turning his gaze to Keith. “You've been a great help.”

Keith screamed through his gag as violating hands stripped him of his – admittedly grungy – clothes and cut his wrists and elbows free of the ever-present zip ties. He shrieked into the gag as he was tied down with rough twine wrapped trifold around his wrists and spread out for the taking, tied spread-eagle to the bed. Even as the group exited, he sobbed in terror, because what if they came back? What if whoever found him was the unscrupulous sort?

Angry and helpless, Keith cried himself to sleep.

* * *

“Fuck – _Jesus, _kid!”

Blearily, Keith blinked the sleep from his eyes. The hard face of a man who had Seen Some Shit hovered over him, a welcome change from Bossman and any of the girls. “Jesus Christ,” the man muttered, and Keith flinched as he strode towards the bed, staring at Keith’s bound, naked form with wide eyes.

The man pulled his shirt out of his mouth, and Keith took a few gasping breaths. “Help me,” he breathed, barely able to believe this wasn't a dream. “Shiro… Can I call my brother? Please.”

The man hesitated. “We need to call the cops,” he said hesitantly. “I’m gonna do that while I get you untied, okay? “

Keith grimaced, but inclined his head and let the guy make his damn calls, all the while picking at the twine. The dude shook as he called the cops, regularly glancing at Keith; he switched from attempting to untie Keith to sawing at the ropes with a dull, abraded key.

As soon as he was cut free – “Shiro, _please _let me call him –”

“All right, all right, call your brother.” The man had only managed to free one of Keith’s hands, but he shoved the cell phone into Keith’s hand. Keith’s fingers shook as he carefully dialed Shiro’s number.

The phone rang twice before Shiro answered. _“Shirogane,” _Shiro said, his voice cold and angry and clipped.

And the best thing Keith had heard in his life. “Sh-Shiro?” he demanded, his voice cracking.

Shiro sucked in a breath. _“Keith?!” _he demanded. _“Keith, where are you?!”_

“I don't know,” Keith half-sobbed. “I don't know but they let me go and I want to come home but I don't know where I am!”

_“I'll figure it out,” _Shiro said. _“Fuck. I'll find you, Keith, and I'll bring you home.”_

Keith’s rescuer – the motel manager, he was pretty sure – cleared his throat. “I can give you the address,” he said awkwardly.

Keith paled as the man spat out an address entirely on the other side of the country from his place of residence. His voice shook as he relayed the information to Shiro, trembling as he imagined waiting days for his brother to come retrieve him.

_“I’m booking a flight now,” _Shiro said.

Keith’s heart stuttered. “Can – can we afford that?” he asked. Money had been tight after their parents died, and most of what they had, they’d sunk into his college tuition.

_“I can deal with a few months paying off the credit card,” _Shiro said tightly. _“I’m coming for you, Keith. I’m going to bring you home.”_


End file.
